


Test Run

by extension_cord



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sticky Sex, gunfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:10:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2133129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extension_cord/pseuds/extension_cord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brainstorm and Whirl get a little clangy in Brainstorm's workshop. No plot here!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Test Run

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gunthatshootsennui](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=gunthatshootsennui).



> A lil commission for gunthatshootsennui! It's been more than a year since I last wrote some gunfucking, which is unacceptable. I haven't properly written Whirl or Brainstorm before, so this was a bit of a challenge for me!
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

In a supposedly post-war setting, Brainstorm had initially feared an abrupt lack of interest in his genius. Not that he expected the peace would last — it never did — but for as long as the ceasefire was lucky enough to hang around, chances were his latest weapons and brilliant inventions would go untouched and gather dust. And that, Brainstorm knew, would be a damn shame.

It was a good thing, then, that he found himself on the _Lost Light_ with more than two-hundred other Autobots, at least half of whom were still itching for a fight. It was even more fortuitous that Whirl had somehow ended up onboard, and that the ex-Wrecker was just as obsessed with dangerous artillery as he'd always been.

And Whirl, as it turned out, was as eager to test-drive Brainstorm's latest weapons of mass destruction as he was for a good, hard frag.

"They're still so — _oh, yeah,_ keep doin' that — they're still so _tingly_. Is that gonna go away? I don't really _want_ it to."

"That can be arranged," Brainstorm said with a wink, and then he was sinking back down onto Whirl's spike. He lifted a hand to rest along the barrel of one of the ex-Wrecker's newly-upgraded chest-mounted guns. "The sensation you — _hnn_ — feel right now is simply your frame — _ah!_ — adjusting to the modifications made in your weaponry." Again Brainstorm raised himself, legs spread wide over Whirl's pelvic array, wings twitching. A claw circled the weapons engineer's waist, a sharp pressure against his plating, and Brainstorm raked himself against it as he dropped down once more, delighting in the hot, slick feel of Whirl's spike as it cleaved through his port.

Beneath Brainstorm, the ex-Wrecker's cooling fans roared, heating the already-warm workshop to a nearly stifling fervor. "Touch 'em both," Whirl rasped, his hips leaving the floor as he bucked skyward. "They're — _yes!_ — real sensitive right now."

Whirl's guns were searing, and as Brainstorm pumped his hands up and down the twin barrels, he felt the larger body arch and shudder beneath him. The jet rose again, fully unseating himself from the spike, then dragged his sopping port along its length. "They're online, aren't they?"

"Of course they are," Whirl purred, his single optic glowing a dim, sultry shade of gold.

Brainstorm heard himself moan. "That's so fragging hot." He plunged a thumb into the muzzle of each gun, then moaned again when the tingle of the charged weapons licked against his fingertips. "I can't wait to see 'em in action."

Whirl's other claw enclosed around Brainstorm's waist, the pressure effectively stilling any further ministrations. "I got an idea, _Ship's Genius._ " The nickname made Brainstorm quiver with delight. "You have a mouth behind that faceplate?"

"As it happens, I do."

"Lucky," Whirl scoffed as he propped himself up on his elbow joints. "Then let's get properly clangy already. Turn your aft around, put your mouth to work, and lemme see that nice, wet port of yours."

Brainstorm obliged, and as he retracted his facemask and licked a sloppy circle around the base of Whirl's spike, he felt the ex-Wrecker's claws on his thighs, easing his open, dripping port up and toward —

"Oh, _Primus_ , yes!" There was no god and no Primus, Brainstorm knew, but that didn't matter because Whirl was happily fucking Brainstorm's port with the hot barrel of one of his chest-mounted guns — which were, the weapons engineer reminded himself, very much charged and ready to go off at any given moment and _Primus, yes_. A moan was building in Brainstorm's vocalizer, and he silenced himself by swallowing the entire length of Whirl's spike. Whirl groaned with appreciation, then surged forward, slamming the muzzle of his gun back into Brainstorm's port. The resulting _squelch_ and trickle of hot lubricant across the jet's pelvic array lit a fire through his neural network, and in an instant, Brainstorm found himself impaling his port on the charged weapon, trying to keep up with Whirl's tempo as he flexed the tubing of his throat around that thick, pulsing spike.

It wasn't long before Whirl spiraled into overload, hissing a litany of curses. The ex-Wrecker's spindly body contorted, spike jerking free from Brainstorm's mouth, only to spurt transfluid over the weapons engineer's face. Brainstorm was too euphoric to care, and as he clenched around the barrel of the gun and felt its hot, potent power vibrate against the internal workings of his port, he, too, overloaded: back arched, wings quivering, cooling fans howling at full-blast.

Together they descended from their high, metal plating pinging as it cooled, until Whirl pulled himself free, locked both guns back into their proper positions, and chuckled, "How's _that_ for a test-drive?"

"I'll need — to see more." And with the mere thought of the upgraded weaponry incinerating targets in the _Lost Light's_ shooting range, another minor overload raced through Brainstorm's frame. The jet shuddered, then murmured with a sated grin, "But for the first trial run, it was a most exceptional performance."

* * *

 

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :B


End file.
